


Where Midterms Die and Romance Lives

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Qnicorn [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19729972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Being as Q has just conquered midterms, he is in no mood for James' surprises. He is in the mood for sleep. Lots of sleep. Of course, James manages to bring him around, anyway





	Where Midterms Die and Romance Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8! This one doesn't fill anything, it's just another addition to what I've taken to calling the Qnicorn series because I'm awful, apparently. Like the others, it's just fluff

Q is going to die.

Yes, it’s all settled; he’s finished his midterm exams, he’s fairly certain he hasn’t failed, and he’s now going to go back to his dorm, collapse dramatically on his bed, and expire. He’s earned it.

There is no possibility he’s being overdramatic.

He’s still clutching the remains of his third or fourth cup of Earl grey, spiked with… some sort of energy drink (he really, really hopes it was an energy drink, because he now recalls his roommate telling him that they were storing one of their final project potions in the minifridge in their room and it’s not like Q was paying that much attention when he was groping around in there sans glasses or sleep earlier today) and contemplating drinking the rest of it to get himself across campus without walking into any walls. His liver’s probably buggered at this point, anyway; might as well.

It’s when he’s downed the last of it and put the cup back down that Q wonders if perhaps he’s had too much, because he seems to be hallucinating.

At least, he thinks it’s a hallucination. It’s James, which isn’t all that strange, except it’s James looking well-rested and well-put-together, which can’t be right because Q knows for a fact that James had the last of his midterms today as well. He should look as horrible as Q feels. He doesn’t, though, so he must be a caffeine and sleep deprivation induced hallucination.

Hallucination James approaches him and pries the empty paper cup from Q’s shaking hand and tosses it at the nearest trashcan (and makes it, because of course he does; that’s not even a hallucinated talent, that’s just something James can do) and wraps his arm around Q’s sagging shoulders and plants a kiss on Q’s cheek and steers him in the absolute wrong direction.

Q elbows Hallucination James gently in the ribs. He wants to go back to his dorm and sleep forever, or at least until the shaking has worn off and he’s reasonably certain he’s not hallucinating anymore, and his dorm is _the other way._

Hallucination James smiles and shakes his head. He has plans for Q, he says.

Q dearly hopes those plans involve sleep.

(He’s also forced to admit that maybe this James is real, because he feels that if this James was a product of his imagination, he would take him back to his room to sleep. Or at least be shirtless. James starts laughing, and Q realizes he might have been saying some of these things out loud.)

Not A Hallucination James leads Q back to his own dorm, where Q finds himself in bed very quickly. And not even the usual sort of quickly in bed that Q associates with James’ dorm room (a _single_ dorm room, because James is a lucky bastard. Q has toyed with the idea that James might be charmed or blessed, vaguely recalling something about Small Fortunes that he’d read a long time ago—the sort of thing where you always find a parking space close to the door or get the last of something you really want just before it sells out—but James always laughs him off) where he’s usually down to his pants and James is kissing him or else he’s kissing James and hands are wandering purposefully.

He _is_ down to his pants, but he’s also wearing one of James’ t-shirts, soft and too wide in the shoulders, and James _is_ kissing him, but it’s just on the cheek again and honestly this is much nicer because Q is far too tired to really entertain doing much else at the moment. This close, he can see that James is tired, too, just not catastrophically so; around a yawn, Q asks him how that’s even possible.

James reminds him that he’s been doing this a little longer than Q and, oh, that’s right, James is in his third year to Q’s second, so he probably has a few more tricks to dealing with midterms and finals than Q does.

(Q has been studiously ignoring this fact. Normally he prefers to face his problems head on, but James graduating and joining the Navy is not a problem Q can solve, it’s just something he’ll have to accept. And he will.

Later, probably. Maybe when he can feel his brain and close his eyes without seeing diagrams of a gargoyle digestive tract.)

Even so, James is tired enough that he’s drawn the blinds and crawled right into bed with Q and given him a few sleepy kisses that are almost enough to help Q settle despite the caffeine shakes. The arm he drapes around Q’s waist helps, too, as does the way he just sort of buries his nose in the side of Q’s neck and stills and relaxes, like this is the only place he wants to be. It’s very nice.

By the time James murmurs to Q that he should sleep, too, Q is already most of the way there.

-/-/-

When Q wakes, it’s not really because he wants to, but because James is shaking him gently (ish) and saying his name.

Q groans and tries to wave James off, but it’s no use; James is a persistent bastard, and Q is forced to actually open his eyes and sit up.

It’s dark out and the clock, when Q squints at it, is a blur that may start with an eight. James, when Q squints at him, is dressed again, this time in warm, comfortable clothing. He tells Q to get dressed, too. Q is unimpressed.

But James has plans, he reminds Q, and tries to bribe him with a granola bar.

Q does get out of bed and struggle back into his trousers, but he doesn’t do it for the granola bar (he does take the granola bar, but he makes sure to inform James that he can’t be that easily bought). He elects to keep James’ t-shirt on and just pull his jumper over it, and then dubiously accepts the sweatshirt that James tosses at him.

It’ll be cold, James tells him, so he should bundle up.

Grumbling, Q does so. And then, still grumbling, Q follows James out of his dorm and across campus. He hates the cold, but he’s also intensely curious; James has a backpack filled with something mysterious and is carrying a few blankets as well, and Q wants to know what in the world James’ plan is.

They head to small park, not far from campus, and march (or trudge, in Q’s case) off the path and up a little hill, on top of which James spreads one blanket to keep out the winter chill of the earth before inviting Q to sit down. Q still isn’t impressed, but he’s more curious than ever.

He wants to know what the hell they’re doing, but James has decided to remain a mysterious bastard and tells Q to just wait. All will become clear.

In the meantime, he pulls a thermos out of the backpack and offers it to Q; it is, to Q’s surprise, not tea (which he’ll admit to having temporarily lost his taste for, after having had so much over the last week or two), but hot chocolate. Even to people who don’t charm their drinks or practice any sort of magic at all, chocolate is soothing and healing and Q feels a little better with each sip. He still wouldn’t say he’s overmuch pleased to be sitting out in the cold, but he’s willing to give James the benefit of the doubt.

They sit and they eat what James has brought—crackers and cheese and fruits and other little nibbles that settle easily in Q’s stomach after all the questionable dietary choices he’s made while studying and testing—and when it starts to get cold they wrap up in the other blanket and James produces a few of those hand warming packets that they sell everywhere in the winter, charmed to last for hours. Q is beginning to think James just brought him out for a picnic, and any other time he supposes he would have appreciated it; it’s a clear night and the stars are decently visible here, considering how close they are to the city, and the company is pleasant and the food is nice, but Q is worn out.

He’s about to suggest they pack it in when he sees something glowing just over the trees.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at the clock before they left, but it can’t _possibly_ be dawn. Q reaches for his phone to check the time, but James stills his hand and tells him to _watch._

So Q watches. Watches in confusion and curiosity as he realizes the glow is coming not from the sky, but from something just beyond the trees. Watches with the dawning understanding that it’s multiple things, and they’re flying, and they’re bright and they’re– they’re…

_They’re firebirds._

There are a dozen or so, and they’re possibly the most beautiful things Q has ever seen. They shine golden and crystalline and cast warm light over everything as they fly overhead, graceful and with a well-deserved air of regality. Q can’t look away, not even to ask James what’s going on, but he doesn’t really want to; it’s like watching a flock of living shooting stars drift across the sky. Only when they’re in the distance, their sharp and crackling voices echoing faintly as they call to one another, can Q turn his attention back to James.

James, who is watching him with the same sort of awe Q imagines he was directing at the firebirds.

The look on Q’s face is, according to James, precious. Q’s not sure how to react to that, so he glosses over it and asks James what and how and why and–

That James had heard there would be flock of firebirds migrating over the area had been a complete coincidence, but he’d realized that even if Q himself had heard about it, he likely wouldn’t have had the energy or the wherewithal to make it out to see after taking all of his midterms. Still, he’d known Q would love to be there and had done his best to make sure they got to watch.

Q’s not sure how to react to that, either, mostly because his chest suddenly feels tight and full and heavy with some kind of emotion and the words are working their way up Q’s throat before he even realizes it because _Gods, he loves James._

He’s not even sure he meant to say that out loud, but it’s alright because James loves him, too, apparently.

And finally, Q knows how to react: he wraps his arms around James’ shoulders and kisses him fiercely. James kisses him back, and they carry on like that until Q demands they go back to James’ dorm because they are absolutely not having sex out in the open in the middle of winter.

They don’t have sex back at James’ dorm, either, because Q falls asleep almost as soon as they get into bed, but he makes up for it very enthusiastically in the morning.

Of course, a good shag isn’t really a “thank you” (even if it is a _good_ shag), and Q begins to mull over ways he might be able to repay James’ kindness. Until he thinks of one, though, he supposes he’ll just have to keep showing his love in little ways.

Really, it’s not a bad way to end the semester at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/186144631803/where-midterms-die-and-romance-lives-james-bond) if you'd like to come by and join the Festing!


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